There will always be something you found when you clean up your room
270820–10:41
Since the pandemic hasn’t slow down, yet, at least in Indonesia, students are forced to do the online learning or online school. And that includes me. Because there is no necessary reason for me to be in Bandung, I have recently come home to Surabaya.
Many things need to be done here to make a comfy and ‘healthy’ environment for me while studying here. Heck, it’s been many years since I even study in my own room in this house. So ever since my arrival I have been busy preparing, reordering, among other things to make my room, well, my room.
I’ve been redecorating and repositioning things in my room. Moving this here and that there. All except one not-so-big-yet-so-heavy cabinet filled with this house antiques like plates, tea set, antique Arabic book my grandpa wrote, and all other stuffs that made the cabinet so heavy I couldn’t move it one bit. Almost all parts of that cabinet are occupied except one chamber I used to store my toys in. Now toys out, books (novels) in. I also disassemble my bed and is now sleeping lesehan. Putting on carpets and hambals after I cleaned up the floor then placing the bed just above it. Never thought that would make my room so much spacious than before. Also repositioning my wardrobe and desk so that I have a ‘proper’ working desk. All things done, now for the finishing touch (which probably I wouldn’t do in the next couple of months) is to repaint the wall wkwk. Oh well I almost forgot, as I was writing this, I was also waiting for the Wi-Fi to be installed to complete the environment needed for the online courses and learning.
One interesting thing when I was cleaning up all this stuffs on my room was, I found many things filed with memories. Like some old t-shirt from junior high school time or some batik I used to love to wear. It was such a hard thing to do to pick only the necessary clothes and storing the others.
Other things I found was… rather unsettling…
I found a pile of a photograph. There is my face on most of them. My baby faces.
So, what is so unsettling about these pictures?
Let me take you all back to many years ago (I, myself, don’t know exactly when) when one day a happy family was facing a crossroad. The results of the choices taken was that my mom and dad got divorced, before even I enter the kindergarten. As far as I can remember, even my earliest memory of my life, I never remembered my dad to be at my home, or our home.
I recall sitting in front of our house with my grandma, waiting for my mom to come back home from teaching at school. No dad there.
I remember first day of kindergarten. I walk to the school happily holding my mom’s right hand. But no dad there.
One time I was picked up by a distant cousin to go back home. He took me on a ride on his bike. I was still small enough to be able to sit on the bike’s stand. But still, no dad there. My dad was never been a part of my childhood or so I thought.
One day a man came to my house, talking with my grandma while my mom was preparing for my backpack. I don’t know who he was. All I know was later I was holding to his back on top of the motorcycle he rode. I cannot even tell where we are going. When we arrived in the house, a woman came to him. She seems to know us, but I couldn’t even tell who they are. And that, I think, was the first time I saw my dad’s new wife. I called her Bunda.
When I grew a little bigger it came to my understanding that part of my parent’s divorce agreement was for me to come visit my dad’s house on the weekend every two weeks until I am 17.
And that’s it. That’s my memory of him and his new family. Got my first brother, lose him, then the second brother and a sister from his family. Those few days every two weeks seems so distant now.
But I never really enjoyed it there to be completely honest. I might be happy. I was happy there. But I just can’t enjoy it there. When I’m around, my dad would always ask me to help him do things. Just later I discovered that he’s done it so I have some few basic household skills that my mom wouldn’t be able to teach. It was so kind of him. But at that time, I don’t really feel like doing it. I mean, I came there on my weekend to have some holidays but instead I got to work and help. Yeah, my child-ass brain was all thinking about playing and cartoons on the tv and all wkwk. What else am I supposed to think about?
Once I enter junior high school, I was big enough to ride my own bike to his house on those weekends. It took around half an hour for me to get there. But sometimes, I refused to go. And my dad would go on and calling my mom to ask why I am not there. I don’t know either.
I just…
I think those are the time where I grew on hating him. I don’t know why but just the idea of him, and his family irks me. Those thoughts went on and on even though sometimes I did go there.
In my high school life, it came to me that many of my life problems came from money, or the lack of it. My dad agreed to help for our finance but most of all my mom would carry the weight herself. Not only because she doesn’t want to rely on him, but also because, well, he got his own family to feed and, in a way because it is not his responsibility anymore, become unreliable for me and my mom.
But with all said and done, and through all these years, I love him. He’s my dad after all. He cares about me and he still does. Even though I once hated him, even though he left me and my mom, he is still my father and I love and respect all things he’s done for me and my mom. I cannot say that enjoy it to be there right now but I grew on accepting the facts that this is also my family because it’s my dad’s family. I love my Bunda, I love both my stepsiblings and I prayed for them. All of them, to be happy.
Grew up almost without a father figure somehow made me realized how much my mom loves me and always push me to do some good things in life. We got our drawbacks and all but that doesn’t stop her for loving me and supporting me. Seeing these photographs also tells me that my dad, even though he is not always here with me, is always be here for me. I mean, look how happy I am in these pictures!
I once thought that I didn’t have a really good memories with my father. But I do. These pictures show and proves that we, as a father and son, were having a good time. Even though it is back then when I couldn’t even remember anything. Back then when maybe I couldn’t even say his name. Back then when life hasn’t been so harsh.
Looking back to these pictures also brought back some old thoughts I had buried in the back of my mind.
What if they never got divorced? But it is a question of the past, I am way over it now.
I think that is all I want to express. When I look back, many things happened in my life. I could keep wondering about all the what-ifs, but nothing would change the past. I am where I am now and I am grateful for it. And I will continue to be grateful because my parents will continue to love me.
We keep this love in a photograph
We made these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Hearts are never broken
And time’s forever frozen still
— Ed Sheeran
